Lost in Paradise
by A.Valerio
Summary: Two boys with unusual heritage grow up in an orphanage. Follow their story of finding their true self and role in the magical world. TMR/HP
1. Chapter 1

Oh,hi I am so nervous about this. Um, this is my first time of writing and feel free to criticise.

Disclaimer: I do not own harry potter or the story will not be so ridiculously light.

Chapter 1- The two boys

_1915 Godric's Hollow_

Two young men were kneeing side by side inside a ritual circle, wearing ridiculously heavy ritual robes.

The man with auburn hair chanted solemnly,' I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, pledge my life and soul to Magic.'

'I, Gellert Grindelwald, pledge my flesh and blood to Magic,' The blonde man next to Albus continued.

'We are born to serve, to restore the balance of Magic, to safeguard the treasure of Magic. May Magic accept our pledge and deem us worthy of its power.'

A heavy silence fell upon the clearing, mist congregated around them as an ethereal voice spoke.

'You have proven your worth. Your offering is accepted.'

A flash of light blinded the pair momentarily. Then, the mist was cleared and the oppressive power left. The pair lay on the ground, panting heavily. Their handsome faces showed identical grins.

They had done it. The first twin Dark Lords in history.

* * *

_1926 London_

The weather was harsh as time drew nearer to the end of 1926. A woman with sickly complexion and long, dark brown hair mingled with dirt and slim from her travel struggled to find a shelter as the bitter cold and contraction in her belly started to invade and overstimulate her senses. As the country was barely recovering from the four-year war and the strike merely few months ago, there were hordes of men and women with situation like her huddling on the streets. The only difference was her prominent protruded stomach which was a remainder of a past in which her life was something akin to a fairy-tale. A well-off and loving husband who would gladly die for her, only due to the fact that he was under love potion, she thought to herself bitterly as she reminisced the old days. Covered only in rags, she was exposed to the attack of the cold fully and she could feel the numbness was extending from her toes to her legs. When another powerful contraction came, her legs, weak from malnutrition, gave out without a moment of hesitation, causing her to collapse directly at the front door of a fragile-looking building which seemed to be on the brink of falling about any moment. Her dull dark eyes stared unseeingly as pain consumed her whole being. Time passed, may it be a second or a lifetime, she didn't know, she was only aware of the building pain in her abdomen. Everything in front of her was a blurry of colour and light, then she felt it, a blinding flash of agony as something fought its way out of her body. Her consciousness just lasted long enough for her to look at her new-born son for a moment and choked out his name, Tom after his father, Marvolo after her father and Riddle as his surname, then her mind was engulfed blissfully by darkness.

Every world was a construction of a mind, at least in the beginning, then as life mutated and grew, variations appeared. This world of magic was a little ecosphere of a deity who grew to be mindless bored in its solitude. But it had never expected the emergence of emotions or more specifically love, honestly, who could know love if they had spent all their life alone? Just a timeless continuous existence. So it wondered so fervently about love and emotions after seeing how the imprisoned Merlin was begging to have his heart frozen, why the Greek started the Trojan War and countless examples of people doing irrational things for love. What is better than to parade as a human and participate directly in the mundane affairs for understanding the intricate human invention, love, it mused. A new life, a novel experience. It really looked forward to the future.

Feeling the shift of power in the air, the silver-haired old man crouching over a wandmaker's table sighed.

* * *

A wailing infant was then found outside the frontdoor of the Wool's Orphanage, as the matron hurried out to investigate the noise. What she found was a baby with striking emerald eyes and delicate features, squirming in the closely wrapped blanket with embroidery. 'Oh, my god, what have I got here?' she muttered under her breath. With a short of funding, it would be very hard for her to take in two orphans in such times, especially those two were merely infants who needed her utmost care and attention. As she turned to leave the baby, a cold chill went through her. She heaved a sigh as she went back to take the infant under her care.

She hurried back to the comfort of the dingy orphanage with a baby in her arm. It had been years since she last raised children from their infancy, let alone two. Putting the two new additions together in one cot, she frowned as she watched them sleeping peacefully. 'Tom and…what would your name be? Ah, Harrian has a nice ring of it. Harrian… Harrian…,' her eyes fell onto the another boy, a sudden inspiration struck her ,'Riposte.' She finished her naming of the newfound boy with a considerable amount of mischief, not knowing that the name would bring misery and humiliation to the boy.

* * *

_1938 Wool's Ophanage_

It was in the middle of July,1938 and the sun was blazing overhead. A wizard with aburn hair was stroding down the streets in the downtown London to a crumbling building briskly. The building was surrounded by wrought iron fence with some dried brown grime which looked alarmingly like dried blood.

He passed through the weak defence and mounted the few steps leading to the front door and knocked twice, and was greeted by a scrawny girl who gasped uncivilly at his flamboyantly cut robe of plum velvet.

'Good afternoon. I have an appointment with a Mrs Cole, who, I believe, is the matron here?

'Oh,' said the bewildered-looking girl. 'Um…just a moment.' She ran all the way down a dark narrow hallway and fetched a skinny, harassed-looking woman. The woman had a sharp-featured face with wrinkles forming webs on it. She was talking over her shoulder to another girl as she walked towards the door.

Once she got closer and saw the man waiting patiently at the door, she stopped dead in her tracks, her unpleasant face twisted into a mask of disgust, horror and astonishment.

'Good afternoon,I am Albus Dumbledore,' said the man politely, holding out his hand.

Mrs Cole simply gaped.

'I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today to discuss matter concerning the two boys who have a place at my school.'

Mrs Cole blinked slowly, coming back to her senses and said feebly,' Oh, yes. Well- well, then- you'd better come into my room.'

After leading Dumbledore into a small room which was as shabby as the hallway and the decoration was clashing horribly, even to Dumbledore's taste, they both settled down. Mrs Cole cleared her throat nervously.

'I am here, as I told you in my letter, to discuss a boy named Tom Riddle and another named Harrian Riposte, and arrangements for their futures,' started Dumbledore.

'Are you family?' asked Mrs Cole bluntly.

'No, I am a teacher and come to offer them a place at Hogwarts.'

'And how come you are interested in them?'

' We believe they have qualities that we are looking for. Also, their names have been down for our school since birth-'

' Who registered them? Their parents?'

There was no doubt that the matron was an inconveniently sharp woman. Dumbledore gave her a charming smile in response to her newest question and slipped his wand discreetly out of the pocket, giving it a tiny twist. Mrs Cole's shrewd eyes went unfocused for a moment and snapped back to their usual sharpness.

'Everything seems to be in order,' she said placidly. 'Do you wish to see those boys now?'

'Certainly,' beamed Dumbledore.' But I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about the boys first.'

'Oh, of course. Now,where to start?' Mrs Cole was eager for an audience. 'Harrian was a brilliant boy. He was charming. Although both Tom and him got the highest mark in their school, Harrian was more loved by the classmates and teachers. He was a modest child as well, a dream boy for every couple.'

'But he hasn't been adopted, has he?' asked Dumbledore.

'Yes, a few times, but he was always sent back after a few days. Disasters seem to follow him. Every time when he was adopted, his foster parents would die in the most curious way or they would somehow disappear without a trace or reason, leaving everything behind. Then, poor Harrian was sent back again.' She gave a sad sigh for boy.

'How about the other boy, Tom?' pressed Dumbledore.

Mrs Cole gulped heavily and then asked hesitatingly,' You will take them away? No matter what?'

Dumbledore inclined his head as affirmation. She scrutinized him as if to determine whether he was lying.

After a pregnant silence, she seemed to muster up her courage and said evenly,' Tom…Tom is an odd child.'

'Odd, in what way?' Dumbledore asked gently.

'He is highly intelligent, even surpassing Harrian, but he is quiet, too quiet for an eleven-year-old boy. And…and he scares other children.'

'You mean he is a bully?' enquired Dumbledore.

'Well, not exactly. He never really bullied any other children in physical way but those who had offended him or Harrian tended to suffer from mysterious diseases or unfortunate events later.'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

'Billy Stubbs's rabbit … Mary Anderson's doll… well, they didn't hang themselves from the rafter, did they?'

'I don't think so, no,' replied Dumbledore quietly.

'And the incident of the adventure last year, well, Amy and Dennis didn't become frightened by the dark suddenly, right? Funny things happen around the boy all the time, and those times when Harrian is away, things become quite unbearable for us.'

'How so?' inquired Dumbledore.

'You know, for me, the two boys seem to have personalities of the opposite two poles. One is nice and friendly while the other is well, aloof and unsettling. But these two are good friends, inseparable like they are somehow glued together. Harrian is the only one that can keep Tom in check. I shudder to think what would happen if you take Harrian away and keep Tom here, alone.'

She shook her head slightly at the thought and got to her feet. 'I suppose you'd like to see them now?'

'Very much,' said Dumbledore, rising too.

She led him out of her office and together they walked past corridors that were dim and smelly.

'Here we are,' said Mrs Cole, as they reached the end of a corridor and stopped outside the last door. She knocked twice and entered.

'Harrian?Tom? You've got a visitor. This is Mr Dumbydon- sorry, Dunderdore. He's come to offer you a place it his school.'

She then stepped out and closed the door. Dumbledore walked towards them with a benign smile. The two boys were looking stunning even though they were in unflattering grey tunic. Both were extraordinary handsome for eleven years old. Harrian had a soft and delicate feature with unruly dark hair and pale green orbs were sparkling with childish wonder, silently welcoming the visitor. He had an innocent angelic air about him. On the other hand, Tom was somewhat darker and felt more dangerous. His midnight hair was combed to be impeccable and the aristocratic feature made the child look noble. He narrowed his dark eyes as he took in Dumbledore's eccentric appearance.

'How do you do, Harrian, Tom?' asked Dumbledore, holding out his hand.

Tom opened his mouth but snapped it shut when Harrian laid a hand upon his arm. Harrian flashed a charming smile that would melt every adult's heart towards Dumbledore ,shaking the extended hand and replying sweetly ,' We are well, and you, sir?'

'Well, please call me Professor Dumbledore,'

'Nice to meet you, professor. I am Harrian and he is Tom. Why are you visiting us today?' asked Harrian.

'I come to offer you two a place at my school – your new school, if you would like to come.'

Just after Dumbledore finished saying this, Tom tensed completely and moved to shield Harrian, looking alarmed and furious.

'Don't kid me! The asylum, that's where you are from and where you are going to take us. We have never done anything to anyone. You can't take us away!' Tom bellowed in his child voice.

Harridan narrowed his eyes at Tom slightly and tugged him backward. Tom turned to look at him, after a few exchanges of looks, Tom stepped back and Dumbledore was again addressed by Harrian with his lovely smile.

'Professor, as you can see, sometimes accidents do happen and,' his voice sank down conspiringly,' I often wonder why Mrs Cole always blamed them to Tom. Tom has suffered greatly all those years from her bias opinion.'

'I am not from the asylum, Harrian and Tom,' said Dumbledore patiently. 'I am a teacher and, if you will sit down, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. It -'

'Hogwarts? What a weird name!' exclaimed Harrian childishly.

Dumbledore nodded, as if he was encouraged by the child, and continued, 'is a school for people with special ablilities-'

'As Harrian has told you, I am not mad!' Tom pushed Harrian to the side and faced Dumbledore directly, eyes full of anger and hate.

'I know you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for insane people. It is a school of magic.'

Then, time seemed to still. The two boys looked into each other's eyes and resumed their silent communication. Air around was imbued with electricity fuelled by the boys' excitement and wonder and their desperate hope of escaping this dreadful place.

' Magic?' both boys repeated together in a whisper.

' That's right,' said Dumbledore cheerfully, feeling their interaction would become more pleasant from now on.

' It's magic,' breathed Tom. ' That's why we can do all sorts of things. All sorts. Can you imagine it, Harrian? We can-'

'Tom,' warned Harrian sharply, his green eyes darting back to Dumbledore. His warning startled Tom, pulling him back to the reality where they both needed to maintain their composure.

Dumbledore watched their interaction with great curiosity. Both boys had a flush of excitement on their pale hollow cheek, their eyes blazing with happiness and yearning. They were no longer the sullen inhabitants for this orphanage. They had become something more, something superior.

' Can you do magic too?' came the question from Harrian.

'Yes, I can.'

'Prove it,' said Tom, in a commanding tone that he had no doubt used for many times.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

'If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts,' paused Dumbledore in order to observe their expressions. 'Then you sill address me as "Professor" or "sir".'

Tom's face hardened for the most fleeting moment and an unusual hard glint came into Harrian's eyes. Tom squeezed Harrian's biceps briefly before he spoke again, in an unrecognisably polite voice, 'I'm sorry, sir. I meant – please, Professor, could you show us -?'

Dumbledore withdrew his wand from an inside pocket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner and gave the wand a casual flick.

The wardrobe brushed into flames.

Both boys jumped to their feet and yelled,' No!' Their eyes focused on the flaming wardrobe and concentrated. A while later, the fire distinguished, both boys rounded on Dumbledore in rage. Harrian's face twisted in anger as he stared at Dumbledore intently.

'Where can we get one of them?' Tom asked, pointing at the wand.

' All in good time,' replied Dumbledore, giving another wave of his wand. A faint rattling was heard from inside of the wardrobe.. For this fist time, the boys looked frightened.

' Take the stuff out,' said Dumbledore sternly.

The toys inside the box were shaking and rattling as though they had become alive.

' Is there anything in the box that you ought not to have?' asked Dumbledore.

Tom threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look before nodding.

'You know what to do, don't you?' said Dumbledore calmly.' And be warned: thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts. Magic needs to be controlled. Any display of magic from now on in Muggle World will be seen as a breach of the Secrecy Law. Lawbreakers will be punished severely and all wizards must abide by our laws.'

'Yes, sir,' answered Tom in a colourless voice.

'We will go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy your books and school equipment. I can-'

'You are coming with us?' asked Harrian, expression betraying nothing.

'Certainly, if you-'

'We don't need adults,' said Harrian.' We are capable of doing things ourselves, and if you would teach us how to reach the Diagon Alley, sir?'

Then, Dumbledore gave them detailed direction to the Leaky Cauldron as well as a briefing on the wizarding world, handing them their Hogwarts envelops.

The boys nodded. Dumbledore held out his had again and rose to leave. Shaking the hand respectively, the boys bid farewell to Dumbledore. Just Dumbledore walked to the door, Tom said,' I can speak to snakes. They find me and whisper to me. Is this normal for a wizard?'

After a moment of hesitation, Dumbledore said,' It is unusual, but not unheard of.'

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Tom's face. Then, Dumbledore turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind him.

'Harry,' Tom's usual self-control was slipping, marked by his quivering voice.

'Yes, I know. Do you think-' Harrian wondered suspiciously.

'The whole stuff may seem implausible, but he did not show any tell-tale signs of lying,' Tom said slowly, thinking over his conversation with Dumbledore. 'Yet we cannot never be sure until we go to the Diagon Alley ourselves.'

Both boys lapsed into silence, each drown in their own thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Visit to the magical world

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The pair was restless the whole night and neither was able to gain much sleep. They could hardly wait until the dawn so that they would be able to determine whether the fiasco yesterday was a cruelly choreographed joke or a life-altering reality. The two boarded a shabby double-docked bus right outside the dreadful orphanage and hopped off in the city centre. According to Professor Dumbledore, the entrance of the most prominent wizarding settlement was located inside a tiny pub named Leaky Cauldron. They looked hard to find the pub, only to see it being sandwiched between a sophisticated pharmacy and a well-polished bookshop. Excited, they headed towards to the pub, which was now the only portal they knew of to the new world.

Greeted by a young man in his late twenties, Harrian and Tom swept their gazes around the dingy bar, instinctively taking in every detail and filing it for later analysis. Tom stood imperiously when Harrian chitchatted amicably with the barman, who shared the same first name as Tom, fishing for information regarding the new world. A few minutes later, Harrian had gained enough data and the pair made their way over the crowd graciously to a plain-looking stone wall.

'Focus on your magic,' requested Harrian. He proceeded to tell Tom the correct sequence of tapping the stone fragments. Together, they called upon their power and the wall shuddered to life, revealing the hectic Diagon Alley.

Although both had mentally prepared for the acclaimed Diagon Alley, the view before them exceeded their widest imagination. Wizards and witches dressed in old-fashioned robes flocking to various shops. The shop windows were embellished with different products, including All Purposes Magical Cleaner, Madame Malkin's fashion robe... Tom's eyes swept from Ernst's Magical Creature to Mr Borkin's Apothecary and finally landed on a shadowy archway with a crooked sign, stained with dark red substance, nailing on it. It read the Knockturn Alley. Tom softly repeated it under his breath, feeling a dark welcoming shudder went through his body.

Harrian, too busy staring at this newly discovered wonder, for once did not notice the slight tremor in Tom. Harrian was glad that they were not lied to and thrilled to have an unknown world to learn, to explore, but he did not experience the fierce joy that was tearing through Tom's normally impeccable composure. He knew what he should feel, after seeing Tom's reaction, yet he could detect nothing but curiosity inside himself.

Tom tugged Harrian along as he had done admiring the view, stepping away from the doorway, they effortlessly became part of the scenary which they stood frozen to take in a few seconds ago. They first went to the wand shop which was recommended by Professor Dumbledore. The shop itself was a curious thing. It was in an obscure location with dust and dirt rivalling the orphangage covering the shop window. If not for the magic inside calling out to them, in a way similar to a mother beckoning her favourite child home for lunch, they would never be able to find it.

The grimy doorbell gave a soft ring upon their entry. The boys held their breaths in this eerily silent environment. Only rows and rows of long thin boxes on shelves greeted them, leaving them slightly unnerved. Their sharp eyes scanning every corner, looked for hints that would tell them what was happening. Then, out of sudden, a quiet ancient voice called out,' Good morning, Mr…?'

'Riposte and Riddle,' answered Harrian good-naturedly despite being caught unawared, gesturing towards himself and Tom respectively.

'We are here for our wands, sir. As you see, we are new for Hogwarts,' supplied Tom politely. Harrian's eyebrow raised faintly in surprise.

'Well then, let's-' an old man with protruding slivery eyes emerged from shadow. His gaze fell onto Harrian and he paused. His eyes widened fractionally before he composed himself so quickly that both boys missed this. Heaving an internal sigh, he continued the sentence smoothly,' get on work first.' Tom stepped forwards eagerly. Then started a tedious afternoon.

Tom got his yew wand with phoenix core at his third attempt but Harrian was not so fortunate. He spent the whole afternoon, trying different wands again and again by giving them a little foolish wave. After what must have been hundreds wands, the wandmaker strode to hang a 'Closed' sign onto the door and resumed Harrian's battle with wands. It was again an assault of wands and Harrian was soon exasperated. When Mr Ollivander (he introduced himself finally) went to the back of the shop to dig for more wands, Harrian gave an impatient huff and complained to Tom,' If a wand is this hard to come by, I would rather not have one. We can do magic perfectly fine without one anyway.'

'Come on,' Tom offered an encouraging smile,' haven't you heard that patience is a virtue, Harrian?'

'How unfitting it is for you to lecture me on the importance of patience when you have nearly none,' Harrian rolled his eyes and mock-punched Tom with a grin, knocking Tom's wand onto the floor in the process. When Harrian bent down to pick up the wand, something peculiar happened as his finger curled around the handle. A familiar humming shot through his body, making him feel like basketing under the sun and a few sparks shot out from the wand tip.

Mr Ollivander watched this occurrence with an intrigued expression and pulled a newly craved wand from his drawer, thrusting it into Harrian's another hand. A shudder went through Harrian's body and he let out a contented sigh. The wand rejoiced in meeting its owner and with a tiny wave, a spectacular show of miniature firework erupted from the wand, earning a 'Bravo' from Mr Ollivander. Later, the boys then learnt that their wand shared the core came from the same phoenix, while Tom's was made of yew, Harrian's was of holly. This meant that they could use each other's wand freely. After paying Mr Ollivander 10 Galleon, the boys resumed their shopping trip with vigour.

Watching the boys' retreating back, the long-lived wandmaker cursed darkly under his breath, _'My Lord, what have you done?_'

* * *

The funding provided for orphans was not much, but fortunately, the boys were skilled at taking advantage of their good looks and charming manners. In the end, they were able to make a few more than satisfying bargains, thus saving quite a handful of galleons.

Returning to the gloomy orphanage, the pair wasted no time to retire to their bedroom. They finished off their nightly routine in a haste, wanting to talk about their adventure today in the safety of their room.

'So what do you think,Harrian?'asked Tom as he snuggled further into the blanket.

Harrian flashed an amusing smirk into darkness as he thought of Tom's behaviour,' I must say that I am completely taken off by your performance today. I have never thought that you had polished your acting skill to such an extent.'

'My, my. You flatter me, dear Harry. It is simply _unfitting_ for me to behave in the _old_ way in the world that we truly belong in.I was quite worry that my mask was not on par with yours, seeing that you refine it everyday. Would you care to enlighten me your action in this disgusting hole?' Tom answered with a hint of mockery.

'Such esoteric words, Tommy. Trying again to prove that you are all grown up?' Harrian teased.

'Come on, _Harry_,' Tom stressed,' stop dancing around my question.'

'Fine,' Harrian heaved a sigh and pouted,'I love fooling these inferiors around us. It's... it's gratifying to see them falling into my traps. It's an excellent game anyway and don't you dare to deny that it has offered us much entertainment, Tom?'

'True,'said Tom,'but...' He trailed off weakly.

'But what,Tom?'asked Harrian gently, noticing Tom's discomfort which often signalled the beginning of an emotional heart-to-heart session.

'How can you bear it? Being around _them_ for so long, wearing your mask all the time. Don't you feel…feel as if your jaw hurt from all the false smiles?' muttered Tom.

'Why should I do?' Harrian asked genuinely,' You really feel something for them, don't you Tom?'

'I…I…' Tom struggled for words, unwilling to admit his weakness.

'Tom,'Harrian started cautiously,'I never feel anything towards anyone, maybe except to you. You can never believe how utterly insipid it is for me to endure every day without any upheavals in emotions. Every day is just the same to me and do you know what scares me most? It is today at the Diagon Alley. Feeling your happiness radiating like raging fire while I, felt absolutely _nothing_. No elation, no expectation for the new world. Can you imagine how awful it is to live every day like this?'

'You have never told me this before, 'stated Tom coldly.

'What should I tell you?' Harrian gave a hollow laugh into the night, 'that your roommate is a freak among freaks, that I can feel nearly none but numbness, that I take joy in nothing?'

Tom drew in a sharp breath while Harrian continued,' I decide to confess to you tonight because we will be starting Hogwarts very soon. There are many others who will befriend with you and I don't want you to feel obliged to endure me anymore. I-'

'Harrian,' said Tom sternly,' you listen to me now. If I ever grow tired of you, I will ditch you without a moment of hesitation. But perhaps you should cast your thought back and see how long we have lived together. You are not merely my friend. You are much more, like a brother to me, a family. And I promise that I will look after you. We only have each other and will continue to do so, no matter what. So don't you dare to have these stupid thoughts anymore.'

Unknown best to Tom, Harrian smiled softly as he heard what Tom had said. A warm feeling crept up and resided in his heart.

* * *

Days slipped around the corner as the boys contented their brillant minds with books they bought from the Flourish and Blotts. The first of September arrived speedily and off they went to Hogwarts. Their first train ride brought them to a magnifient castle which was literaly constructed with magic. The building itself was a truly impressive building, living up to its legendary name. The ancient walls were pulsating the castle's joy of welcoming the newcomers. Harridan could see intricate layers of magic intertwining in the school boundary, proffering security to inhabitants. With a jolt, he realised that the school was reinforced from years of warding and spellcasting as the shimmering light he saw was of different hues though some were lighter whereas some were darker, more menacing.

The first years were led into a small alcove next to the great hall. While most of them were waiting there, muttering nervously under their breaths, Harrian and Tom stood a few meters away from the agitated group. When Harrian expected to share a knowing look with Tom, he surprisingly found Tom was fidgeting slightly. Laying a comforting hand on Tom's forearm, Harrian further analysed the soon-to-be classmates in front of his sharp eyes. A blond boy with impassive composure. Eyes flicked to the door now and then had exposed his anxiety. A black-haried girl with intense dark eyes crossing her arms and leaning against the wall nonchalantly. Yet her upheavel of chest had betrayed her controlled posture. Tom gulped soundlessly as the door to the Great Hall was opened. When they were led into it, they were again rendered breathless by its beauty, just as they had been with Hogwarts. Thousands of candles were afloat in mid-air, casting a warm glow on the Hall. Four long vertical table were filled with students wearing dark robes with green,yellow,blue and red lining accordingly. Right in the front middlle part of the hall stood a a dirty, wrinkled hat which slumped spinelessly on the four-legged stool it was resting on. Strangely enough, every eye was fixed upon it.

The professor with arburn hair-Dumbledore- was standing next to the stool, holding a long parchment. He cleared his throat and started calling names out according to alphabetical order. It was Tom's turn first. The hat barely touched his head did it call out 'Slytherin'. When Harrian heard his name,he walked calmly into the view. Facing the students, he could see Tom's face flushed with excitement and expectation at the Slytherin table. Dumbledore dropped the hat onto his head. Not knowing what to expect, he was greeted wih a deafening silence until he felt a poke inside his head. A wise voice mumbled,' How curious it is. Every thought is emotionless, like a painting without colour, leaving only stark facts. Tell me child, is this how you see things?'

Without waiting for an answer, the voice continued,'Oh… there is a shield there as well. I wonder what is behind it. It is a massive veil hiding Merlin-knows-what.'

By then, Harrian was growing slightly irritated to this monologue. Figuring that he must have spent for at least 5 minutes under the hat, he decided to ask politely,' I am sorry to interrupting, but would you please sort me, sir?'

The hat chucked,' No need to call me sir, Harrian. No need to pretend to be polite as well. I know of your every thought and I must say that you will do well in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Now, where to put you?' It trailed off in a contemplative tone.

Harrian remained silent, even in his own mind.

Getting impatient, the hat asked,' Boy, you do know I am giving you a choice, don't you? Hurry up and pick one.'

'With all due respect, I do not care. Both houses are good enough for me,' replied Harrian formally.

'Fine,' Harrian could hear the hat rolling its non-existent eyes,' let's see where did your _friend _go. Slytherin. Um… maybe the same for you?'

Again the hat received no answer. It took a deep breath and screamed,' Slytherin.'

Harrian at once pulled off the hat and returned it to the waiting hand of Dumbledore. Then, he moved gracefully towards the Slytherin table, sitting right next to Tom.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N The story seems lackluster and I still have not got into the main plot. Sigh.

Disclaimer: Not owning Harry Potter or Harry and Tom won't be enemies.

Chapter 3- Life in Hogwarts

For Harrian, life in Hogwarts, to be perfectly honest, was quite similar to his life in orphanage, though the living condition had improved drastically. Yet one simple word could have summarised it. Prosaic. Yes, learning had helped distract him from boredom. But the lesson was useless to them as both Tom and he were brilliant. Magic came easily to him, as simple as breathing. Weeks into the magical world and Harrian was seriously bluffed by the extraneous wand-waving in classes.

Honestly, why did wizards need wands? Why did the Wingardium Leviosa exist when he only needed to will his magic to raise the stupid feather? Yet as a paragon of Slytherin, Harrian remained silent about his ability, not wanting to warrant any unnecessary attention. When in the Muggle World, attention had meant safety and protection for Harrian, he now saw it as a hindrance to his learning, not only about magic, but also about people in general.

The first year materials were beneath both of them. Imagine having to sit through at least six hours of mindless droning a day, it would undoubtedly cause any great mind to atrophy. Needless to say, Harrian was one that feared for the degeneration of his intelligence very much, so much indeed that he instigated a habit of observing and analysing his _schoolmates_' behaviour.

The first one came under his careful scrutiny was, unsurprisingly, Tom. He studied Tom's mannerism discreetly, not wanting to arouse Tom's suspicion. Years of being the partner in crime had taught him if nothing but the act of subtlety and Tom's higher-than-average level of paranoia. After two weeks of _data collecting_, the boys entered the two months mark of their life in the magical Britain.

It was a Saturday and Tom had abandoned him in favour of the school library, not that Harrian wasn't a book lover, but two months of hard work was enough to put off any sensible people from working further, perhaps except a certain bookaholic. 'It is a mystery why Tom was not in Ravenclaw. He must have the secret ambition to devour the whole library ,' mused Harrian. Moreover, they were both topping every class with ease. An idle afternoon was certainly not too much. As a result, Harrian lay on his bed, simply taking his time and letting his mind wander. Yet, for some unknown reasons, Tom's visage kept appearing in front of his eyes, haunting his every thought.

_His dark eyes seemed to have gained a haunted light and the shadows under his eyes were more prominent than ever. His pale complexion had a pallid look to it. His interaction with others were kept to minimal, even_ _to_ _me_. Harrian reflected pensively_. What had happened?_

Never the one with confrontative nature, Harrian opted for observing silently for the days to come, at the same time, felt a constant weight in his gut, which was a feeling that he could not identified with.

* * *

Life went on and it was soon the end of the mild autumn. Tom arose Harrian from his peaceful slumber at the first dawn with frantic shaking on a wintry morning.

His whispered voice troubled,' Harrian... Harrian...'

Harrian, hearing the underlying urgency, was instantly awake. Waving his hand to form a sound impenetrable shield, he pulled Tom into his bed and closed the hangings.

The boys sat cross-legged on the tiny yet comfortable bed. The closed hangings gave them complete darkness and security. This was the least he could offer Tom who was in his most vulnerable state Harrian had ever seen, a place for hiding and release. Darkness was the only sanctuary that protected them from the brutality of the ophanage, the cruelty of the selfish children, the animosity of the world since the day they came to this world. They embraced the dark, savouring the escape from reality. The mystique of night enthralled them, letting their imagination roam unbounded from the repressive teaching of the nuns. While the lesser beings shrivelled, unable to perceive the beauty of the dark, they thrived in it; they reigned in the shadows.

'What is it, Tom?' Harrian inquired gently, his tone like a tender caress on Tom's aching heart. He could not see his face but he could feel the vibre of tension, of frustration, of agony from his friend.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Tom uttered softly,' They... they are all so insufferable. Stupid, arrogant,defiant. And how dare they look down on us, Harrian, how can they? They see us as inferior, just like how we see those filthy Muggles. They think we are undeservable of this, all this, the magic. Have you noticed the disgust in their eyes whenever any of them looked at the pair of us, Harrian? They mock our names-'

Harrian did not know what possessed him, but he leaned forward and pulled Tom into a warm hug. He could feel the malnourished body quivering under an array of emotions. Fury, disbelief, confusion, hurt... He squeezed Tom tightly, giving him a straw to hold on before drowning in the intensity of his feelings.

'It will be alright. All will be alright,' Harrian comforted him in a smoothing tone.

'Harry, it won't,' Tom sobbed silently into the night.

'Come on,Tom. Don't tell me that you want one of those ludicrous pureblood names. Who in their right mind will name the whole family after star constellation? Or be the snotty brats like Malfoy and Black? They for god's sake don't even possess one tenth of our magical power. '

'It is not about these petty naming. It is their attitude that I cannot bear with, Harry! HOW CAN-'Tom's ranting was cut off by the sudden cacophony of thunder.

'Calm down, Tom,' Harrian cautioned urgently. The last time Tom slipped his control on magic had led to some _inconvenience._ Perhaps this was an understatement, seeing that the heavy rain induced almost flooded half of London and both of them had to sustain on a tiny piece of bread for a whole week before anything resembled cereal came. 'Close your eyes and breathe deeply.'

'It doesn't work,' exclaimed Tom, after his attempt and total failure to rein his rampant emotions.

'Just try,Tom. Look into yourself. Imagine a room with your thoughts and feelings as threads. Weave them. Twist them. Master them.'

A few minutes passed and the night was now utterly silent, but it was not only the absence of sound, the raging, swirling magic of Tom had by now calmed into smoothing waters, flowing pleasantly around both of them.

'Better now?' asked Harrian, his thin arms still looped tightly around Tom's waist.

Tom offered him a small, gracious smile. He was silent and thoughtful for a moment and asked ,' Is this how you keep up your impeccable façade around those imbeciles?'

Harrian tilted his head slightly, albeit unseen by Tom in the darkness, chewed his bottom lips before replying slowly,' I have not once thought about this. Maybe, this is one of the reasons. If you want, we can work on this together.'

Tom nodded eagerly, his eyes brightened from the prospect of learning this skill.

From then on, Tom would creep into Harrian's bed every night and Harrian would teach him how to construct the so called mind palace, to organise and store memories and thoughts. Harrian was surprisingly an excellent instructor despite his tender age and Tom an exceptional brilliant student.

* * *

'_Although Merlin was known as the greatest wizard in the history, many of his deeds were highly controversial, including his advocate of the separation of magic-users and non-users. This infamous suggestion has later become the founding of many a pureblood families as the original Malfoy, Lestrange, Black, Nott, Avery… were the knights of Merlin or better known as Guardians. Their present-day family mottos still bear the influence of Merlin…' _

_'No wonder they are so proud of their names. The Malfoys are actually descended down from the legendary knights,' _reflected out of the library with his nose in the epic memoir of Merlin, Tom ran accidently into a stone wall.

'Oh, look at how the pea-sized brain bumped into the wall,' Malfoy, who was _coincidently_ here, laughed maliciously.

'Now, now, now. Abraxas, we shall not mock someone with inborn defects due to their _questionable_ lineage. They could not help it really,' Black said with a smirk.

Unable to tolerate them anymore despite his training with Harrian, Tom shot back vehemently,' It is such a surprise to see you two to have the ability to the 10-metre radius of the library.'

'Listen, Cyngus. The mudblood can actually form a coherent sentence. What a miracle it is,' Malfoy said with false sweetness.' Still, his manner is abhorrent. Talking to his betters like this.'

With an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, Black, eyeing Tom with disdain, said,' As scions of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses of England, I do believe it is our obligation to educate the underprivileged, isn't it, Abraxas?'

Together they pulled put their well-polished wands with practiced fluidity, they aimed at Tom, who was busy chanting to himself ,'_Control, control. Do not let Harrian down. You can do this, Tom.' _His body strained from controlling his swirling magic that was begging to be free, to defend its master.

Mistaking the tensed body as a sign of fear, Malfoy and Black shared a smirk and cried ,'_ Tarangella_.'

Just as their hex hit Tom, his angry magic lashed out ferociously, knocking the two attackers unconsciousness. Magic was palpable in the air, a heretic maelstrom around Tom. Staring down the limp bodies on the cold stone floor, Tom smiled coldly. Harrian's words from that morning echoed clearly in his ears,' _They don't even possess one tenth of our magical power_.' _Yes, _he thought, _they may have powers from their names and ancestors. Yet it is this power that matters truly, the ability to harm, to bend people to my every whim. Merlin was great because he got tremendous power, and one day, I shall have it as well._

After the incident, the two purebloods no longer showed their contempt towards Tom outwardly, instead they often regarded him with an unreadable expression and kept their comments to themselves. They neither mocked him, nor did they talk to him. It seemed that the two were adamant to maintain their distance, until they decide on which steps to take.

* * *

Soon, Christmas had come and left quietly, so had Tom's birthday as both boys saw no reason of celebration. After months of practise and training with Harrian, Tom's mind had become better organised than ever before. Harrian's heart swelled with a strange emotion that made him want to gloat whenever he saw the impressive progress of Tom. Even though Tom could meditated on his own by now, he still prefer to slip into Harrian's bed every night, taking comfort in Harrian' warm body and snide comments of the day.

'What are you reading, Tom? I have seen you with this book for months,' asked Harrian with a smile.

'It is about Merlin. It is the true biography of Merlin, detailing his life from birth to death. The book is absolutely fantastic, Harrian. Do you know that Merlin was immortal?'

'What? Nothing can be immortal.' Harrian looked at him in disbelief.

'Well, obviously not for Merlin as he was no ordinary human. He had received the blessing of eternal youth from Magic,' Tom explained grimly.

'But, didn't you say something about his death?'

'Ah, about that, the rejection from his love of life, Nineve, followed by his imprisonment, had caused Merlin to beg Magic to rescind its gift, which by the time was more of a curse than a blessing. His wish was granted after years of pleading.'

'Come on Tom, you can't seriously believe this. Merlin was probably an extraordinary wizard who unveiled the secret of immortality, yet in the end chose death over a life of solitude. Also, magic is just a kind of energy, like the light we can see or the sound we can hear, but not some deities with sentiments,' argued Harrian.

'But have you seen magic? How can you know this for sure?' countered Tom.

'Of course I have,' shrugged Harrian,' everyone has different shades of light surrounding them. Some are pulsating stronger, some taste sweeter… Can't you feel it?'

' I can't,' Tom gritted out jealously,' Why don't you tell me before?'

'It never comes up. I…I thought you can do this as well,' Harrian faltered slightly under Tom's hard glare. 'If you want, we can work on it together,' he added quickly, attempting to placate Tom.

Tom's glare softened immediately. The more he thought about Harrian's offer, the guilty he felt as he remembered Harrian's exclaim of '_wicked'_ after he revealed his ability of talking to snakes to him. Not once did Harrian express his desire to acquire the skill, yet here he was, demanding to learn everything that Harrian knew, not understanding that everyone had his own unique talent.

'Harrian, would you like to learn how to speak with snakes?' Tom proposed nervously, hoping that Harrian would accept his subtle apology.

'Of course, I would love to do so,' Harrian beamed brightly, his eyes lit up,' Thank you, Tom.'

_With Harrian, _Tom realized, _sharing is not so bad._


	4. Chapter 4

A/N This is awfully short as I have not been writing for months(need to study for exams.) The later chapter will definitely be longer and more polished. By the way, please re-read the past 3 chapters, there have been some major changes, including a new character added. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 4- A bloody incident

_1939_

The rest of the school year passed peacefully. To Tom's relief, the snotty purebloods did not bother them again after seeing them both top every class with ease. Their time in Hogwarts was fruitful as they had both resources and time to conduct their own study, devouring precious knowledge that was offered to them by the great Hogwarts.

The school ended too fast to their liking. It was soon time for them to return to the orphanage and say goodbye to the great castle which had been their home for a whole year.

The condition in orphanage had grown unbearable in their one-year absence. Maybe it was not the orphanage that had changed, with Mrs Cole still doting on Harrian and fearing Tom. It was the boys. Before, they knew nothing about the world, except for its cruelty and harshness, but now, they had seen the grandeur of Magic, had known what life could have been, the orphanage was the HELL for them. Constant hunger and brutal bullying. The Statue of Secrecy had prevented them from using magic, thus taking away their only means to defend themselves.

* * *

'Not so brilliant are ya now , teacher's stupid pet? Walking around as if ya own the place-' Hatch landed a kick to Harrian's stomach. He could hardly believe his luck when he found Harrian crouching in the garden, picking flowers or God-knows-what alone.

'NO!' Tom roared in anger, running from the kitchen to them once he saw what happened.

'Ooh, it seems like the freak is eager to join us,' Hatch broke Harrian's arm with a sickening crunch by stepping on it.

Hatch looked down on the bleeding Harrian with a cruel sneer, eyes daring him to cry out in pain.

'Ah…'Harrian's eyes turned pure gold as he convoluted under the agony, his magic unleashed to protect him, slicing Hatch in the middle. The bloody image was too much for any twelve-year-old. So with the intense pain in his arm and one look to the gruesome scene, Harrian fainted. The last thing he saw was a shocked Tom.

The man in a dusty room stilled as he felt the oppressive magic in the air for the first time in centuries. Abandoning his work, he fastened his robe and apparated to the source of that power.

* * *

Harrian opened his eyes to find himself in a comfortable bed in a dimly lit room, with Tom sleeping soundly next to him. The memories in the garden rushed back to him. _Oh, dear God, what have I done? The belladonna in the flowerbed, Hatch, then the kicking and pain… Oh, and there was so much blood…_ He rolled to the side of bed and threw up.

Tom woke instantly and patted Harrian gently on his back,' Harry, are you alright?'

After a while, Harrian lay sprawled on the bed, body limp but heart beating erratic.

'What- what happened, Tom?'

'A hooded man rescued us,' Tom said,' after you passed out, the man-he apparated directly into the clearing. He banished the mess and took us to here.'

'What about H-Hatch?'

'The man said that he had altered the record and memory so there should not be any follow-ups. He seemed to care about you, Harry.'

'Why do y-'

'Come on, Harry. You are very weak at the moment. Rest now and we will talk about it tomorrow,' Tom wiped Harrian's mouth with a wet towel and tucked him in bed.

_Take care of him,_ the man had told him before leaving them in the Leaky Cauldron with a bag full of Galleons.

Despite feeling very much better the next day, Harrian was still shaken by what he had done. Tom, on the other hand, had his mind occupied by the identity of the man. _Who was he? Why did he save Harry? How did he know where they were? _Tom was mulling over these during breakfast.

'Tom,' Harrian called, then he called again louder,' Tom!'

Startled, Tom answered tightly,' Yes, Harry.'

'Tom, do you… do you think that _he_ could be my family? Did he say anything else to you?' Harrian was looking expectant at Tom, as if he hoped to find his lost family.

The green-eyed monster reared its head in Tom. 'No,' he lied smoothly,' Nothing more. He just dumped us in the Leaky Cauldron and paid for our rents.' _Harry is mine. Their family have abandoned long before. How dare they come back now and try to take Harry away! Harry is mine. Only I can look after him, only I can care about him!_

'Oh…' seeing Harrian's crestfallen face, he felt a twinge of regret which he squashed down mercilessly.

They continued their breakfast in silence and the day in similar fashion.

* * *

A bloodcurdling scream woke Tom in the middle of the night. It was Harrian. He was trashing in his blanket and screaming. For the moment, Tom was glad that the room was sound impermeable or else he would have a lot of explaining to do.

He shook the smaller boy in shoulder, trying to wake him from the nightmare. And suddenly, Harrian stopped screaming and gasped ,' Oh, Tom. There was blood everywhere, and he, Hatch, was smirking at me. Tom, oh God. His entails were moving like worms towards me. They were going to bite me…'

He trailed off, feeling fear for the first time. It was so intense, like the Devil's Snare, crawling all over him, ensnaring every part of him, choking and dragging him down to the abyss. It was overwhelming, invading his every sense. There was no escape, it simply became a part of him. The fear of being hurt, of dying, of leaving Tom alone in this cruel world. They were family, weren't they? They were alone in this world, only having each other. Shuddering at the thought of dying and losing Tom, Harrian leaned into Tom's embrace, seeking the comfort offered.

'Harry, calm down. It was just a nightmare. Hatch is dead and he could never harm you anymore. It is not your fault,' Tom was holding Harrian as Harrian had done in the Slytherin dormitory.

'But it is my fault. I… I ripped him apart. Oh, oh, oh,' Harrian was rocking slightly in Tom's arm.

'No, it is not your fault,' Tom reassured, every word was stressed and lay with unintentional compulsion,' You are not the one to be blame, Harry. The fault lies in Mrs Cole for not protecting us, to Hatch for being the bully, to our family for abandoning us to that accursed place. You did nothing wrong. You were only protecting yourself.'

With each word said, he felt Harrian relax until the body went limp in his arm.

'Can you hold me until I sleep?'

'Of course,' Tom proceeded to do so with a smile.

To Tom's satisfaction, Harrian's nightmare had reduced in frequency and intensity for the next few nights. Harrian was back to his composed, studious self and made use of every moment to learn more about the Wizarding world with Tom.

* * *

Very soon, it was time for them to return to Hogwarts. As the year progressed, Tom and Harrian continued to outshine other students with their brilliance that many had become awed of. Reluctantly, some halfbloods in their year approached them for help in different subjects. Slowly, some more open-minded purebloods joined in and Tom became the head of the growing study group, coaching their fellow classmates as Harrian preferred to sit silently in the group and observed, watching the interaction of students with eager eyes.

Tom seemed to have a natural talent in garnering attention and respect. Barely had their study group started for a few months then the students started to ask Tom for advice on personal matters. He had their undivided mind whenever he spoke or moved. Everyone revolved around him imperceptibly, if not for the keen eyes of Harrian, none would ever noticed this.

Unknown best to the pair, some pureblood heirs were also scrutinizing them, evaluating their potentials.

As a result of their helpfulness, Harrian and Tom had received quite a many of gifts at Christmas, including Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (at which Tom sneered in disgust) and some very expensive books which prompted Tom to be even more devoting to the study group in the second term.

The pair passes their second year with flying colours, earning grudging respect from most of their yearmates and acknowledgement from professors. Unfortunately for them, summertime had come again and they needed to return to the Muggle World. With no choice, the boys decided to sell some of the precious books given to them after copying the contents with a complicated spell in order to pay for the rents at Mordred's Inn in the Knockturn Alley, which had a much lower rental fee than the Leaky Cauldron. Knowing the dark nature of the Alley, the pair minimized their activities, opting to stay indoors, simply read books and practise magic to pass their summer.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 A matter of family and friendship

It was an idle evening when Harrian finally decided to bring forth the question that had been haunting him for the whole year, ever since that mysterious man had saved him from the horrible repercussion of his actions last summer.

'Tom, do you think that our family might be, well, dead? I mean, if they were alive, they would not have left us in that place for so long, they would have come to find us, right?' Harrian was lying on his back on the comfy bed, using a heavy tome as pillow.

'Or they can be still alive, simply abandoning us to go their merry way,' Tom replied carelessly, eyes not taking off from his book.

'Don't be so morbid, Tom. Don't you want to find and see your family?' Harrian turned his head to watch Tom. ''Don't you want to learn more about them?'

'_You_ are my family, Harry, ' Tom simply said, yet his elongated fingers clutched tightly around the book for a moment.

'Tom…' For once, Harrian was at loss for words. He did love Tom as a brother, but this-what they had now- -was only a shadow of a true family. Every day, when he was reading silently, he could hear the joyous laughter and giggling of children and parents coming from the cheerful Diagon Alley. That was what true family was, merriment and dare he say, love. Tom and he deserved better, deserved more than what they had right now. They deserved a home, a family! Harrian was not unsatisfied with Tom per say but there was no deny that it was every orphan's dream to find and see their real family. He couldn't understand why Tom was being so dismissive of this matter. Wasn't Tom curious about his family?

Tom was glad that Harrian let this issue drop so easily, yet he knew their discussion was far from over as Harrian was nothing if not persistent. He kept his eyes trained on the book while his mind drifted, unable to take in the words anymore. Of course, he would love to locate his family and unearth the reason why he was abandoned to that dreadful, abhorrent place. But alas, tracking down their families meant that Harrian and he would be going their separate way. The strong bond between them would be gradually weakened, and eventually dissipated into nothingness. No, he would not allow this. That mysterious wizard was a close call. He would not let anyone take Harrian away from him.

But Harrian's idea did have its merit. Being extremely skilled in magical prowess, he highly doubted that he was a mudblood. He must be at least a halfblood , or even a pureblood to be this powerful. The magic in mudblood was too diluted to produce any decent wizards. Knowing his heritage could be a great asset to him in Slytherin, where blood and power were valued most. He had proved himself to be powerful, but his blood status, it was going to be a hindrance. _It would not do._ It seemed that he would have a potion to brew in secret.

* * *

_1940_

Soon, their third year began. With the newly-added electives and study groups, the boys once had a fulfilling Hogwarts year.

For Tom, this year was hectic beyond his imagination. Getting the gullible Professor Slughorn to sign him a pass into the Restricted Section of the library was easy, but brewing the heredity potion that he found in an obscure potion book- the Moste Potente Potion- was much harder, not to mention that he had to keep Harrian from finding out. Granted, Harrian was the most observant person, barring Dumbledore, that he had ever encountered, but Tom was a master in cunningness. He was fairly confident in his ability.

The study group was thriving. There were ever more students joining, purebloods, halfbloods, younger students, older students. They flocked to Tom as if he was their leader, nodding to him respectfully whenever they met Tom on the corridor. Harrian was taking his usual spot in the group, the silent watcher. He loved to watch Tom talking, or explaining abstract terms to the dunderheads: he was so brilliant, like an artist performing flawlessly on stage, entertaining the mindless idiots with well-concealed disdain which was only perceived by his closest associate.

* * *

Tom was walking down a deserted corridor in Slytherin territory, namely the dungeon. Fire flickered to life, casting a soft glow on Tom's pale face when Tom strolled in the darkened unpopulated area which was left untouched by students in years. The hallway was saturated with magic as Tom forged his way deeper into the core of Hogwarts. Putrid smell filled his nostril as he descended further into the unknown.

'Halt, youngling,' a portrait of a shrewd-looking man called out to Tom.

Knowing that although being dead, magic portraits were holders of immense knowledge and could be powerful allies, Tom obeyed and inclined his head respectfully to the portrait.

'Ah… young Slytherin,' the portrait, eyeing his green and silver crest on the robe, inquired,' Tell me what year it is.'

Tom viewed the man with narrowed eyes, which the man dared to smirk at him for this. 'It is now 1940, sir.'

'Alas, eons have elapsed,' he sighed, giving a bittersweet smile, losing in his thoughts.

Casting a _tempus_ wandlessly and soundlessly, Tom cleared his throat softly, signalling that he _had_ to leave or he would be late for dinner, which would arouse unnecessary questions from both Harrian and his annoying housemates that seemed to cling to him like those insufferable flies to rotten meats. Seeing that the man was still immersing in his memory, Tom walked away silently, contemplating this mysterious and very-much-ancient portrait.

As Tom made his way to the Great Hall for dinner, his thoughts shifted from the portrait to the heredity potion. Most of the ingredients were common and harmless enough for him to get his hands on, but there was a rare and much fundamental ingredient-Acromantula venom- that would ensure the high accuracy of the potion. The venom was classified as Class A Dangerous Substance and all trading, except for those who held the license of Potion Master, was considered illegal. There was no deny that the venom was lethal, but for the ministry to restrict it to such an extent was totally uncalled for. It must have something to do with it being an essential ingredient for most fatal potions. _How he could get a vial of the venom for his harmless potion?_

* * *

_Something was not right this year. Tom barely talked with me, was always busy with work. How could he have so much work? We study the same subjects._ Harrian thought privately, his hand was holding a quill loosely, hovering on a parchment that should be his Arithmacy homework. He was unable to concentrate before coming to the conclusion: Tom was definitely hiding something from him._ What could he possibly be hiding? _Deciding that he could not by any means find out Tom's secret by purely deduction, after all, for genius like Sherlock Holmes, legwork was necessary for crime solving, he would let the matter drop, for the time being. He turned his mind to the task in hand, how sickeningly easy the wizarding maths was compared to those in the Muggle world. Just simple calculation, and those purebloods were already complaining, muttering darkly under their breath. Harridan smirked at their unbecoming behaviour before his thoughts started wandering back to Tom. _Should I dog him? But wait, who am I to poke into his privacy? I am only his friend. He will be mad, no, incensed if he knows that the only one he has trusted is trying to find out his secret. But what's so important that he has to keep it from me?_

'Urgh…' Harrian let out a frustrated groan as he was torn between wanting to learn Tom's secret and to respect Tom's need of privacy. What should he do?

'My, such a monstrous sound,' Malfoy commented as he walked past Harrian at that precise moment.' Do mind your manner. We, after all, have a house reputation to uphold.'

Harrian narrowed his eyes slightly at the Malfoy, suspicion clear on his face. This was the first time that the _mighty_ Malfoy associate with him outside lesson.

Malfoy smirked, grey eyes staring at him cruelly,' No need to be paranoid, _Riposte. _As much as it pains me to say, we are of the same house and I do care for our fellow housemates.' With that, he walked to join Lestrange who was waiting for him by the dormitory door, leaving a speechless Harrian behind.

* * *

'Mr Riposte, please stay behind,' Professor Surrey called as the bell rang and students started packing and leaving. Harrian turned around to tell Tom to go for dinner first, only to find that Tom had already left the classroom in haste. He suppressed the sudden throbbing in his heart and approached Professor Surrey with a small polite smile.

'You ask to see me, sir?' Harrian asked tentatively.

'Yes, Mr Riposte, it has come to my notice of late,' Professor Surrey stopped for dramatic effect,' that you process great, no immense, talent in Ancient Runes as well as Arithmacy.' Seeing Harrian's dubious expression, he quickly added,' And yes, I have talked with Professor Graham about your Arithmacy performance.'

What he said was utterly out of Harrian's expectation. He had expected the man to talk about his homework or his class performance or whatever stupid things that the teachers liked to talk about, and certainly not this. Surprised, Harrian mumbled,' Thank you, sir.'

'There's no need to thank me,' Professor Surrey waved his hand airily, beaming at Harrian enthusiastically. 'Due to your excellent performance in these two subjects, we have recommended you to Mr Ollivander, who is currently looking for an apprentice.'

'Mr Ollivander? Isn't he the wandmaker?' Harrian's eyes widened at the news.

'You are correct, Mr Riposte. However, despite being the most renown wandmaker, Mr Ollivander is also the last Warding Master in Magical Britain. He fears that the art of warding will be lost should he passed away. Therefore, he asked us for potential students.' Professor Surrey explained excitedly.' This will be an once-in-a-lifetime experience.'

'I will be honoured to train under the guidance of Mr Ollivander, sir,' Harrian replied respectfully.

'Very well, the necessary arrangements have been made. Mr Ollivander has kindly agreed to come to Hogwarts to coach you on Sunday if he takes you on apprentice. And please refrain from telling anyone, including your friends, about this apprenticeship. It is Mr Ollivander's explicit wish for this to remain a secret,' Professor Surrey added.

Recognising a dismissal, Harrian thanked the professor again and excused himself.

* * *

It turned out that Mr Ollivander was more than elated to have Harrian as his apprentice. And their first meeting went quite well, in Harrian's opinion, despite the questions that Mr Ollivander asked were a bit intruding. Yet, in retrospect, it was perfectly understandable that the renowned Warding Master would like to learn more about the background of his soon-to-be student, just in case. So, in the first 15 minutes, Harrian had told the man more or less his whole life while Mr Ollivander was taking in every word he said with rapt attention. This actually baffled Harrian. Surely, this little orphan's life was not _that_ important or interesting to this aged and much-experienced man?

Still, Harrian was relieved when after he had recounted his life, Mr Ollivander nodded in approval and clapped his hands merrily, delighted to take Harrian as his only apprentice. Mr Ollivander proceeded to give him a brief introduction of Warding and assign him books to read.

With his extra lessons with Mr Ollivander, who in spite of his grandfatherly manner, was an incredibly demanding teacher, Harrian started to make absence in the study groups that Tom and he co-found. Never the one to back down from difficulties, Harrian devoted much time in studying the intricacies of Warding magic and ingraining his valued magic-seeing ability, which after he revealed it to Mr Ollivander was correctly named as _Magicoculus_, into Warding.

Though Tom and he still partnered in lessons, they rarely talked anymore outside lessons. And to Harrian's surprise, not once had Tom questioned him his nonattendance in their study groups, which over years had become something akin to advanced lessons.

* * *

Wrapped up in his quest of illegal potion ingredients, Tom was pleased to utilize Harrian's absence in the study groups as well as his leisure time.

In one of their lessons which Harrian was absent, mastering the subtlety of Slytherin, Tom nonchalantly asked several promising members, including Greengrass, Nott and Macnair, to stay behind to discuss their work. It was a pity that he could not have the more powerful pureblood heirs wrapped around his finger, namely Malfoy, Black and Lestrange. They would have made a good collection. Tom sighed internally.

Seeing the remaining fidget slightly under his unnerving scrutiny, Tom leisurely made a comment,' I am very satisfied with the progress we have made this year. During the months, I have taught and observed. It shows that we, the group which yearns to learn and to achieve, have so much potential that is left untapped by the current education system.' He paused to observe the students, who were hanging on his every word like ants on honey, eager for more.

'It will do much good on our study group if we move to another location in which we would be able to cast spells and make potions. Any suggestions? ' Expecting that they would not have any decent answers, Tom continued,' Inform me in private when you find an appropriate venue.'

His eyebrow raised in astonishment as Nott tentatively said,' I…I do know a secret room in dungeon which was accessible to Slytherin students only. My older brother told me about this room before.'

Tom snapped his head towards him, appraising Nott in a new light. 'Very well, you have pleased me, Nott.' Nott's face brightened at his compliment and his undivided attention. _How trivial their happiness was, and how easy it was to manipulate those fools_, Tom sneered in contempt internally. 'We will be having an exclusive meeting there next Friday and some of you bring along a vial of Acromantula venom. I have some demonstrations prepared.' With that, he glared at them, as if daring them to object. Seeing their fervent nodding, he turned to leave, robe billowing behind him like a proud medieval king.

* * *

It started slowly. With Harrian being wholly enveloped in his study and Tom in his exclusive study group which grew increasingly dark in nature, they drifted apart without either being aware.

The number of Tom's exclusive group was growing steadfastly as more students heard of this elite group and worked harder to seek Tom's approval in order to be included. Many offered obscure books about dark arts and illegal magic rituals so as to catch Tom's attention. In response of the rising popularity of his group, Tom named it as the Knights of Walpurgis and this closed group was now officially a secret dark art group. Tom sat near the underground window in the Slytherin common room, swirling a goblet of elfin wine which he received as a present from Greengrass. His dark eyes glimmered in glee as he thought of his progress in _taming _those insufferable purebloods. _Soon, the heredity potion will be ready. Soon, I will show them their rightful place. No one will question my station anymore, no one except Malfoy, Black and Lestrange._ He had to refrain himself from gritting his teeth as he saw the aforementioned strays entered in tow with his Harrian, chatting amiably together. _Who do they think they are? Talking to my Harrian like… like they are friends. What happened?_

Feeling a murderously dark aura nearby, Harrian twisted his head around the common room to look for the source. His action resulted in him locking eyes with none other than Tom whom he had not had a decent conversation with for several weeks, whom he had considered as his family, whom he was currently betraying their mutual trust by keeping his lessons with Mr Ollivander as a secret. Employing his Occlumency skill, yes he did look it up in the restricted section of Hogwarts library, he tucked away every ounce of guilt and fear, and kept staring at Tom with an impassive face. Then, he noticed what Tom was drinking.

'Merlin! Tom, what are you thinking? Drinking alcohols at your age,' Trying his best to ignore the dark aura that was pulsating around Tom, Harrian rushed to Tom's side and gently peeled his fingers from the heavy goblet.

'Harry,' Malfoy called from the dormitory entrance,' Let's go to the library, we still have Professor Merrythought's project to complete. And I think dear Tom will manage fine on his own.' He remarked snidely.

Tom saw red. _Harry, how dare they call him by my nickname? It is for me only, why does Harry allow them to do this? _Despite his rage, Tom maintained a calm composure.

Torn between Tom and his new friends, Harrian bit his bottom lip softly, hesitating.

'Come on, Harrian,' Black prompted impatiently.

Harrian's head darted to Black. Then, he mumbled,' I will see you later, Tom,' before taking off to join those purebloods on their journey towards the library.

Seething inside, Tom gave the departing group a pleasant goodbye wave.

Plastering his smile firmly in place, Tom waited until they were out of sight before sweeping from the common room with the force of a hurricane.

He needed to vent and he had a property to reclaim.

* * *

Abraxas Malfoy considered his plan went well, exceedingly well in fact. The bastard Riddle's effort to conceal his emotions was more than amusing to watch. A fine entertainment indeed. It was certainly a pity that his magic had given his rage away, running amok like a wild beast that he was.

But there was a complication. Riddle's magic was raw, violent and much more voluminous than he previously perceived. When he and Lestrange were assaulted by Riddle in their first year, they had only passed it as a burst of accidental magic, which was rare and in most cases considerable in amount even for weaker wizards. Granted, Riddle had outperformed them in _every single _class, yet he had not anticipated that the mudblood possessed such amount of magic.

He needed to reassess his plan.


End file.
